Can't Stop the Feeling
by CapNicholls
Summary: Pony's freaking out because he thinks something bad's going to happen. Sort of a companion to What is This Feeling? 'cause a couple people wanted me to continue that one. Yes, I named it after a song. So sue me. Disclaimer: I own nothing


I can feel someone shaking my shoulder, but I'm too tired to care. Maybe if I ignore them, they'll go away…

"Darry?"

It's the voice that finally jolts me awake - Pony's voice. He sounds terrified. My eyes fly open as I sit up, pushing the blanket off. "What's wrong?"

The moonlight's coming through the window, casting a blue-white glow around the room, and in the dim light, I can see him standing by my bed, visibly shaking, a sheen of sweat on his face and neck. He looks absolutely petrified.

I'm on my feet in a second, looking over him anxiously, hands hovering, trying to figure out what to do as he says, "I don't know- I just- I can't-"

He's too worked up to get out a coherent sentence, and I put a hand on his shoulder and push him to sit on the bed, sitting next to him. "Easy, clam down. Did you have a nightmare?"

He shakes his head, his breath coming in short gasps, and I can actually feel the bed vibrating for how hard he's trembling. He's scaring _me_. Is he having a panic attack?

"Ponyboy, breathe," I command him, trying to sound calmer than I feel. I bring my hands up to cup the sides of his neck, my thumbs resting on the sides of his face, as if I can hold him steady. "C'mon, it's okay."

He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "Dar- I just- I can't _stop_ it."

"Stop what?" I'm trying to be gentle, paternal, and, not for the first time, I wish Soda was here. He always knew what to do when it came to this kind of thing.

"I don't _know_." He looks up at me, eyes big, scared, pleading with me to help. "I just- I've got this feeling- like something awful's gonna happen, or- maybe it already did, but- Darry-" he breaks off, and I can see the panic rising again. "I can't make it stop. I don't know what's wrong. It's like-"

He's getting worked up, talking fast, voice rising slightly, and I do my best to soothe him. "Hey, hey; it's alright, Ponyboy. Just try to calm down. Just breathe."

He closes his eyes again tightly, forcing himself to take deep breaths, and slowly he stops trembling so much, letting out a small shiver every so often.

"Okay?" I ask, and he nods, pulling away, letting out a shuddering breath.

"Yeah. Sorry I woke you. I just- I didn't know what to do."

"It's okay. As long as you're alright."

He gives a short nod, but I can see by his eyes that he's not really alright; the anxiety, or whatever it is, is still bothering him - scaring him.

"Hey," I say gently, and he looks up at me. "Nothing's wrong, okay? You're alright. I'm alright. Everything's fine. Okay?"

He searches my face for a minute. "Okay."

He looks so young. Young and scared. I reach out and draw him towards me, and when he wraps his arms around my torso, I can feel how tensed he is. I cup the side of his head against the front of my shirt, his ear pressed to my chest so he can hear my heartbeat. _I'm right here. I've got you. Everything's okay_.

For a second, nothing happens - his muscles are so tensed under my hand that it must hurt, and I feel his rib cage heaving slightly as his breaths come faster than normal.

But then they slow down as he relaxes, the anxiety leaving him after a minute. I move the hand that's on the side of his head, running my fingers through his hair. It's something Mom used to do a lot, and I'm hoping it'll calm him down a little. It does; he closes his eyes, soaking it up, and lets out a soft, contented sound, almost like a hum. The corner of my mouth lifts in a smile, and I set my chin on his head.

"Dar?" he mumbles drowsily a minute later. " 's it okay if I stay in here tonight?"

I lift my head, laughing softly as I brush his bangs away from his eyes. "Yeah. It's okay."

I lean my head back to rest it against the headboard and close my eyes. I'll definitely have a stiff neck tomorrow, but it's worth it.

XXX

 _ **One week later…**_

Bills…junk mail…more junk mail…

I stop flipping through the envelopes when my eyes land on the one that says it's from the Army. I shove the rest of the mail into the mailbox and tear this one open. A letter from Soda? A message from his officer saying he's coming home-?

My eyes seem to jump on their own to the words that make my heart stop and my breath catch.

 _We regret to inform you that Private Curtis was killed in action…_

Bile rises in my throat as dark spots start to cloud my vision. No. No, not him. Please no...

I turn over the envelope with trembling hands, a ringing growing steadily in my ears. I almost drop the letter.

It's dated one week ago today.


End file.
